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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252581">These High Holy Days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ativanpire/pseuds/ativanpire'>ativanpire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ben is alive, High Sex, Horrance, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:22:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ativanpire/pseuds/ativanpire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus constructs intricate rituals which allow him to touch the skin of other men (Ben.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>These High Holy Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspookycryptidsock/gifts">aspookycryptidsock</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"How do you even-?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I just seal my lips over yours and blow the smoke into your mouth like a mother bird feeding her young." Klaus places one pale hand over his heart in a way he probably thinks looks matronly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben wrinkles his nose. "That's a horrible mental image." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"C'mon, be my baby bird, Benny! My baby Benny bird." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That really isn't an argument."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus claps his hands. "Perfect! So you'll do it."</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Ben is content to watch Klaus’ nimble fingers at work rolling the joint. He can interact with physical objects more often now but he knows it costs Klaus energy. For some reason touching Klaus himself is less arduous; Klaus tried to explain it to him once but Ben lost track of the ever-shifting chain of metaphors. Something about only having to transfer energy one way instead of two and Ben being jelly caught between two panes of glass (he thinks Klaus meant a microscope slide) but the main takeaway was that Ben was “squishy” and Klaus gave him form. Probably. He thinks. He suspects Klaus doesn’t entirely understand the “why” of it either. He doesn’t mind as long as Klaus has the “how” part figured out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus licks the paper to seal it, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and Ben shoves his shoulder partly because Klaus is ridiculous but mostly because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>can. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The novelty of casual touches hasn’t worn off yet and Ben is so starved for them. A month ago, Ben’s hand would have gone right through him. A month ago, Ben would have been watching Klaus get high alone. But there’s no more being alone in their newly gained shared reality. Here and now, Klaus is lighting up and taking his first slow drag. It could be all those other times except for the part where Klaus leans forward and braces one hand on Ben’s thigh, lips inches away from Ben’s own. Ben waits for him to close the gap between them and then he realizes this is Klaus giving him the final say. He’s asking for permission. The gesture is so measured, so unKlauslike, that Ben can’t help but grant it wordlessly with his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first press of skin on skin is electric; it always is nowadays, just this side of too much. Ben realizes his lips haven’t touched anything since regaining the ability to touch. And be touched. Both of which are happening to the sensitive skin of his lips right now. The dual sensations are enough to distract him from why they’re doing this in the first place until Klaus parts his lips and starts to exhale. Ben automatically counters by inhaling deeply, hyperaware that he's stealing the literal breath out of Klaus' body. No, not stealing. Accepting. This is a gift. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smoke isn't as hot, doesn't burn his lungs the same way he remembers from his single curious drag from one of Klaus' joints when they were teens. It's gentle the way it fills his mouth and eases its way down into his lungs, curling there and coming back up through his lips whisper-soft. His lips which still feel the phantom pressure of Klaus' against his own, firm and confident. An image of CPR dummies from their training days comes to Ben's mind, unbidden, and he chuckles. Klaus laughs as if he gets the joke or maybe he's laughing at Ben or maybe he's just mirroring Ben but it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It feels easy. It feels like the casual intimacy of seeing Klaus in his hoodie. It feels like reaching for each other's hands at the same time without looking. For so long, Ben has been an extension of Klaus and the two of them have moved in tandem in their own private dance. They might be learning new steps now but the rhythm is familiar to him as the beating of Klaus' heart. Klaus leads; Ben follows. A waltz performed over the course of decades as they spin and orbit each other in their own private solar system. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the time Ben has been spacing out, Klaus has taken another hit and Ben sees his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips (an old nervous tic. Is Klaus nervous?) before he leans into Ben's space again. He's moving languidly in slow motion, relaxed muscles easing that feline grace of his, plush lips brushing over Ben's warm and a little wet in invitation. Ben opens his mouth again, just a little, wanting to take his time and savor this. All sensations are shiny, new and honestly more than a little raw when he's corporeal but this one goes down smooth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"God, Benny, you're a natural." Klaus' voice is unusually rough and low in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, well. All those years watching you, I picked up a few things." His voice sounds like it's coming from outside of his body. He can feel it reverberate through his own skull.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus laughs and it's just a puff of hot air tickling the skin behind Ben's ear, making him shiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Really?," Ben can hear the smile in his voice, "Because I don't recall doing this with anyone else."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus is so close. When did he get so close? Practically in Ben's lap, long legs tangled with his own and making it hard for Ben to remember how to stand. Not that he wants to stand with Klaus' lips moving against his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben exhales and coughs a little; he'd held his breath too long, forgotten to breathe. Forgotten everything except the electric points of contact between the two of them sending little shocks through his veins. Where had Klaus gotten this stuff?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus takes a long drag off the joint. Ben watches the cherry almost meet Klaus' long fingers and wishes for a moment that he could feel that burn. Klaus winks at him and blows a few smoke rings (show off) before cupping Ben's face in his free hand and guiding him close for a deep exhale. It's a lot for Ben to take and Klaus isn't even finished yet. He's not sure whether being dead and not technically needing to breathe should give him a bigger lung capacity or a smaller one but either way Klaus has him beat. Klaus blows the rest of the thin leftover smoke into his face just to be a dick and stubs out the joint. Ben is about to whine that Klaus didn't share enough but then Klaus is kissing him without pretense, and everything tastes like smoke and heat. Klaus' lips are pink, slightly waxy from chapstick and Ben's feel swollen and buzzing. All of him is buzzing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus kisses hungrily but without urgency, like he has no doubt that his hunger will be sated. And why should he? Ben has never been able to say no to Klaus, not really. Even now, his lips fall open encouragingly and his arms wind around Klaus’ neck in the hope of grounding himself. A hope that turns out to be in vain because while Ben has seen Klaus kiss and he's seen Klaus fuck, he's never been on the receiving end of his clever tongue stroking the roof of his mouth. He’s not sure whether it’s the high or his hair trigger body, but this is nothing like the fumbling, awkward kisses he remembers from his youth. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it’s taking all of his willpower not to pant into Klaus’ mouth and really embarrass himself. Then Klaus' hand snakes its way into pants and remembering not to embarrass himself becomes exponentially more difficult. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> His skin is already too sensitive, Klaus' fingers long and too dry where they're pumping him but the pleasure isn't just localized in his cock. It's flitting over his body in a dizzying pattern as his brain tries to chase it down his calf and up again to his teeth. His body feels heavy and like it's vibrating at the same time, humming at the same frequency that Klaus is stroking him with and it's all Ben can do to keep clinging to his neck and ride out the waves of sensation. He doesn't remember feeling this sensitive last time he was alive and an actual horny teenager. Klaus rubs over the head of his cock and he squirms like his body can't decide to pull away from toomuchtoomuchohgod or push up into pleasure flooding his system. Plaintive, whiny moans fill the room and Ben realizes belatedly that he's the one making them. He's too far gone to feel self-conscious  at this point; he thinks he deserves a pass for remaining conscious and mostly upright as ecstasy sprints through his entire body straight to his brain giving him an orgasmic sense of vertigo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Fuck, babe, you're positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>dripping</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So hot for me," Klaus' voice cuts through the dizzying fog that keeps Ben from telling up from down and he chases that sound like a compass needle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Hnnn," Ben responds intelligently, thrusting up into the now-slick grip around his cock without rhythm or finesse, just the primal need to tip over the edge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus thumbs the head of his cock again and laughs at the sudden hitch of Ben’s hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, baby boy. C’mon, Benny. I’ve got you; I’ll take care of you. Just let go for me, want you to come for me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>you to come for me all needy and sweet-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben’s entire body goes white hot as Klaus’ words weave through his body, pressing into all his sensitive spots as they go. He’s spilling hot and wet over Klaus’ hand, dick spent but still somehow needy as Klaus pumps him slowly though it. Sensation cuts through his high, sharp and so clear he swears he can feel Klaus' fingerprints. Eventually, he whines and tries to wriggle away but Klaus keeps stroking him, keeping him half-hard and unsure as to whether he wants more or to collapse. Either way, he lets himself fall backwards. He trusts Klaus with matters of the dick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of, Klaus stretches his lanky body over Ben’s and gives a long, slow roll of his hips that has him shuddering. He’s beautiful from this angle too. Somehow bigger, the shadows under his eyes replaced by the curl of his eyelashes and his pink lips wet and open and what Ben would give to feed him his cock inch by inch just to watch them disappear between those lips-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus moans. It’s a high, drawn out sound. Too desperate for a bit of friction through his pants and rubbing off against Ben’s thigh. Ben splays one hand over the small of Klaus’ back, slippery with the sweat pooling there, and presses </span>
  <em>
    <span>down. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so pretty,” he exhales the words like smoke, “Always so pretty, and I was always watching but I didn’t know why, you know? But I wanted you. Like this. Like this and in me and </span>
  <em>
    <span>in you </span>
  </em>
  <span>and fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His mouth is dry and his tongue is feeling blindly through the delirium for the words he wants before Klaus crashes his lips into Ben’s and Ben finds better use for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Klaus pulls back for air, his eyes are heavily lidded, pupils blown. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“I wanted you too. Then,” Klaus ruts against his leg, “and now and…,” he extends one long arm in a graceful gesture that might mean ‘again’ or ‘constantly’ or ‘forever’ but most likely means all three.</span> <span>It’s rare to find Klaus at a loss for words but Ben can read his palimpsestic meanings like tea leaves. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ body is hot and frantic against his own. Ben’s gentle pets and pressure to the base of his spine should be incongruous except Ben has a lifetime of experience when it comes to balancing Klaus. He’d know how to move with him even in the dark. Klaus is already close; Ben can tell by the way his hips rabbit so he pushes his thigh up to meet Klaus’ manic thrusts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Need you. Ben, I need you. Fuck! Don’t stop.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben grinds up into Klaus who is full-on riding his thigh now, meeting him in the same dirty offbeat rhythm. The waves of desperation radiating off of Klaus like the heat of his erection radiating through his pants are doing nothing to help Ben’s lightheadedness but he’s not complaining. At least Klaus’ babbling is a familiar constant. Though the babbling becomes muffled in Ben’s shoulder when Klaus pitches forward and loses his balance with a desperate whine. It’s messy and Ben is getting eyeliner on his shirt and Klaus is humping his leg inelegantly and they’re both sweaty and smell like smoke and everything feels too close and far away at the same time and-  It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Because Klaus is moaning Ben’s name into his shoulder as he comes, rocking his hips slowly until he sinks down, his angular body softening enough to fill the empty space between them. They fit together like this. Ben wonders whether that’s because Klaus manifested him to fit or because the edges between where Klaus ends and he begins are more than a little blurred now. Maybe they would have fit together anyway, growing around each other and shaping each other along the way. He could ask Klaus but his body feels heavy and sleepy. He takes a moment to savor the feeling of solidity,of having weight. Technically, the weight he feels is his own and that of Klaus on top of him. He knows this somewhere in a distant chamber of his mind that’s still capable of disentangling Ben from Klaus. He shuts the door on that chamber and lets himself sink under both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now is quiet. Now is safe. Now is a kaleidoscope briefly settled into a perfect pattern and the slightest whisper-touch could upset it into another chaotic rainbow. He knows Klaus will jostle it soon enough, beautiful and colorful and never still. And he knows he’ll be there to find the pattern in it when the time comes. But for now, just for this moment that has never been and will never be again, Ben wants to appreciate this particular formation of colors and shapes and memorize the way they fit together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ben gets fuckin baked because he used to be a ghost or whatever, do not @ me. Writing dabs would be significantly less hot and I'm not about to try and make blowtorches sexy.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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